Requiem of Memories
by Elvin Magi
Summary: The five lives of Allen Walker. "I am Death. Stealing souls and sending them back into the world as haunted, twisted beings is my game. But that boy... that boy suffered too much. If I could have saved a soul, I would've saved his." Yullen, so yaoi.
1. Prelude

So… this is sorta a sequel to just about any of my fics. This will be multi-chapter, a chapter (or two) for each life excluding the first and the second which are covered in DGM itself. I made the first and second life descriptions a bit vague because we don't know all that much about the Fourteenth's life (the first) and the second life is still continuing in DGM as well as the fact that the way the exorcists die in that life vary depending on my fics… If you look, all of my stories (even those with 'happy endings') never guarantee that they will _die_ happy, just that, in those particular fics, they are happy in the end of the narration. I was inspired by what a couple of my friends have told me about _The Book Thief_, since that was supposedly narrated by Death (I've never actually read it myself… yet). And, I admit, I based Death a little of myself. The other chapters will be general third person, maybe with the ending explicitly by Death, but this will be the only one where Death mentions itself (though I kinda picture her to be female) consistently.

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_I am Death. Stealing souls and lives and sending them back into the worlds as haunted twisted beings is my game. But that boy... that boy suffered too much. If I could've saved a soul, I would've saved his._

In the first life, you could say he was known as the Musician, the Fourteenth, among other things. Names like demon, monster, traitor, haunted his life, but before that, he had been a brother, a friend, a son. Him, I rarely regretted taking. Only in moments where the one known as Mana Walker would cry and scream would I feel a twinge at the edge of what you could call a heart, a conscience, a soul.

In the second life, he was Allen Walker, the Exorcist. He was a martyr consumed by darkness, a boy who feared the past that wasn't truly his. He was loved by all and devoted his life not only to humans, but to the akuma, the demons that had taken away the happy what-could-have-been of a life with his father figure. He too was deemed a demon, a monster, a freak, but he truly deserved the terms savior, martyr, friend, companion, comrade, son, lover. And I hated taking him away. I hated taking the one who loved him away. I hated causing such pain. I had to, because of who I am, but it pulled at the fibers of my existence. I hated tearing his friends away from him and tearing him away from his friends, but it had to be done. I hated even existing, because I always loomed. I hated the fact that he and the one he loved, Kanda Yuu, would hold each other close and just breathe in each others' existence for they knew I would arrive soon. That small lonely group of Exorcists was the first that I truly hated stealing.

In the third life, Allen Walker roamed alone, followed by nightmares of pasts he did not live. In the third life, he was the young child burdened by memories of a long-forgotten war. In the third life, he was the young man, always gazing into the distance, perhaps the future, perhaps the past, that people yearned to hold and accept. In that third life, Allen Walker was the old man who died among villagers who cared for him like family, yet was still alone. I took his soul, grateful to relieve him from his weary wandering.

In the fourth life, I was loathe to release his soul, for I had released others that would resonate within him. In that fourth life, he found small joy among two friends from lives before. In that fourth life, he managed to find true moments of joy, yet the two souls found more joy in each other than him. I was glad to give those souls their final life and let the two who had never had a chance- the young fragile girl, and the young man who wasn't allowed to love- the happiness they deserved, but it caused him too much pain. This death was bittersweet, among friends, at a young age, without the one he loved, a sad smile on his face.

In the fifth life, I was afraid. I had the same deep fear as most have of me, that things would go horribly wrong. But that soul needed release. That soul deserved joy, and only one other soul could grant him that. So I released Allen Walker's soul, in hopes that it would rejoin with Kanda Yuu, and all would be well.


	2. The Third Life: the Wanderer

Update time! I should be doing homework… but… well, everyone knows how _that_ is, right? Anyways, skipping over the Fourteenth and Allen Walker the exorcist, here we have the third life, the wanderer. I had a bit of a hard time picturing Allen as an old man, so I left it a little vague, but I think I managed. And yes, Martel has become a small country village here. I guess I thought Martel would be a good place to end, with Allen remembering how it, in a way, started it all. And I dunno, maybe the little girl is a reincarnation of Lala (I think she had blue eyes… I don't remember).

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_In the third life, Allen Walker roamed alone, followed by nightmares of pasts he did not live. In the third life, he was the young child burdened by memories of a long-forgotten war. In the third life, he was the young man, always gazing into the distance, perhaps the future, perhaps the past, that people yearned to hold and accept. In that third life, Allen Walker was the old man who died among villagers who cared for him like family, yet was still alone. I took his soul, grateful to relieve him from his weary wandering._

Waking with a scream, Allen woke and wondered. Everything seemed so familiar. Names and faces of people he hadn't met flitted at the edges of consciousness. Places that no longer existed or were in ruins brought along a strange nostalgia. Events that no one in the world could recall brought forth tears and anger. Curled up alone in an abandoned barn, Allen cried and wondered why, if God was so great, he would send these nightmares. He wondered why, if God was so kind, he would burden Allen with disfigured looks. He wondered why, if God was so perfect, he would allow dreams in which he abandoned those who fought for him, allowing them to die in pain.

Roaming between country villages and towns, Allen missed the kind and adoring looks. Always with a soft smile, he traveled to the same places, meeting everyone, yet staying distant. Staring off with a sad look, perhaps reminiscing on the nightmares that still haunted him, perhaps searching his future for answers, Allen remained a sacred figure whom almost everyone loved. Yet as a young man, the knowledge chiseled into his eyes, the strength pressed into the core of his body, the kind sadness that always adorned his mouth in a gentle smile, everything about him made him untouchable. Talking and laughing, people yearned to spend their life loving him, yet afraid as they were to touch his true self, they only could watch at a distance.

His old familiar figure, strolling into a small town by the name of Martel, was an almost sad joy to all. Small children flocked to him, grandchildren of the women who had once longed for Allen, grandchildren of men who had admired his strength, children of those who had looked up to Allen as a sort of wandering father figure. As the children flocked to his straight form, their parents and grandparents marveled at how age had barely touched him; his back was straight, his limbs were strong and muscled, his hair, always white, was still soft and had not attained brittleness through age. The only true changes were a few lines about his face that made the pain and truth in his eyes shine ever more brightly and a slight beard. When he lay on that deathbed that night, he still told stories to the children, still laughed and joked with the adults, still reminisced on the past with the elderly. But before he went, he absently asked to be moved to the ancient steps of the old city. There, he sat and stared at the sky. As everyone stood reverentially behind him, a young girl, blond haired and blue eyed, began to sing. And as tears rolled down the old man's face, there was an instant where all saw a dark shadowy figure sit on the other side of the steps as well as down a few, before swiftly rising up beside Allen and gently embracing him. The shadow whispered away like smoke in the wind, and Allen's eyes slid shut into the slumber of death.


	3. The Fourth Life: The Friend

First of all, thanks to **Zexion's Somebody** for offering to be my beta… I was going to wait until we got everything sorted out so you could see this first and edit this… but I'm really impatient… so sorry!

As for this chapter, it made me cry as I wrote it… It's just too sad…

But I'm really happy with the LaviLena I got in. This _is_ their last life, following the general idea that Death keeps reincarnating people until their soul finds happiness meaning happy LaviLena! I'm tempted to write the wedding scene later and almost wanted to make Allen's death at their wedding (oops… that's a bit of a spoiler… though you probably all should've seen it coming given the first chapter), but I decided it was fine as is and I'd probably ruin this…

On with the fourth life! (Next comes Yullen happiness!)

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_In the fourth life, I was loath to release his soul, for I had released others that would resonate within him. In that fourth life, he found small joy among two friends from lives before. In that fourth life, he managed to find true moments of joy, yet the two souls found more joy in each other than him. I was glad to give those souls their final life and let the two who had never had a chance- the young fragile girl, and the young man who wasn't allowed to love- the happiness they deserved, but it caused him too much pain. This death was bittersweet, among friends, at a young age, without the one he loved, a sad smile on his face._

Allen couldn't help but smile as he walked into the cafe. How could he not when he saw his two best friends cuddling and laughing? But for a moment, a pang of jealousy and sadness overwhelmed him. They had found joy and happiness and love, yet he was still alone. And as he looked at them, he felt glad for it seemed that, deep down, they hadn't been able to achieve this before and that they had struggled to reach this point.

As he slid across the couple in the booth he dismissed the thoughts with a laugh; his dreams were affecting him too much. Yet as he thought that, a vision of midnight blue-black hair and cobalt eyes slid through the back of his head and a name clutched at his lips. Allen inadvertently grasped his chest.

When Lenalee and Lavi looked over, worried, he dismissed it, saying he was hungry. And even though the two didn't buy it, they let it slip with a simple insistence from Lenalee that Lavi would treat, and minimal protesting on Lavi's part. Key word 'minimal,' meaning a simple whine that he would go bankrupt, bringing grateful laughter to Allen. Relieved that his fears had been dispelled, talk turned light.

The three spoke of school and jobs and gossip and friends. Once the food arrived, the conversation was mainly centered on Lavi and Lenalee's engagement and how Komui would take (Bookman had already given his blessings). Allen commented occasionally, leaving the brunt of the discussion to the lovebirds while he stuffed his face.

Content and full, the three ventured into the afternoon sunlight strolling through the parks and the city, the couple arm in arm, Allen lagging slightly behind and gazing at the sky, the trees lining the streets, and listening to the birdsong while pondering his life, dreams, and love.

As it was, he heard the squeal of tires. As it was, he heard the honking. But he did nothing. Allen simply stopped and turned. He looked at the car's swerving path and at the couple still strolling some distance ahead, and didn't move or make a sound.

There was the crash and shattering of glass mixed with the screams of a female student with dual braids and large glasses. As Lavi and Lenalee heard the noise, they turned, and were confronted by a mangled vision of blood, glass, flesh, and metal.

As they ran to their friend's side, Allen gave a weak smile and a soft apology that he'd never see their wedding. Lavi clutched the boy's shoulders, shaking him, telling him that he fucking better not go while Lenalee clutched tightly at the twisted mass of metal left arm and cried. Allen simply let out another stream of gentle apologies and how he hoped that they'd live happily together without him.

To the sound of the sirens summoned by the by standing classmate's cell phone, and the blurred sight of his crying friends faces, with a dull throbbing pain coursing through his body, Allen Walker closed his eyes and died with a bittersweet smile on his face.


End file.
